


bet on it (bet on us)

by anniebibananie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Wedding, Best Man, Bets, F/M, Flirting, Maid of honor, Pining, Robb is a Smitten Kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebibananie/pseuds/anniebibananie
Summary: When Margaery suggests her and Robb partake in a bet—who can out-flirt whom—it seems harmless. Robb probably should’ve just taken into account how in love with her he is before agreeing, but he’s always been a little blind when it comes to Margaery. Whatever. It couldn’tpossiblyblow up in his face.





	bet on it (bet on us)

**Author's Note:**

> for @thisbirdhadflown first place winner of my fanfiction giveaway. i really hope you enjoy it, i know it changed a bit from what we first talked about, but i think this is still very fun!! i had a good time.
> 
> also perfect how it lined up with robbaery week on tumblr!

He was trying to get another beer, and a glass of wine for Sansa because he was a good brother, when Margaery swept in the way she always did and flipped everything around. It was all meant to be  _ innocent _ —the night, the drinks, and, initially, the whole arrangement. 

“I heard a thing,” Margaery said. Her voice was twinkling, sort of like the way a glass of champagne made your chest feel.

Robb smiled the way he did at an exhausted customer service employee or his mother after he’d royally botched up, which was to say, charmingly. At least, he would like to think so. It always seemed to do the trick. “You hear many things. It’s part of your charm, the knowing of things.” 

“You think I have charm.” She fluttered her eyelashes like it was natural, when in reality he  _ knew  _ her advances. Robb sometimes thought he knew every trick in her book, but as soon as he was foolish enough to think it she loved to pull something new out of her arsenal. 

“You know I think you have charm,” he replied. “Coy is  _ not  _ part of yours. Don’t start playing at it now.” 

She smiled, satisfied. Like this was fun. It  _ was  _ fun. The two of them flirting was constantly fun—a game they had learned to play the very first time they met and hadn’t stopped since. The game didn’t go further, which annoyed nearly everyone around them, but Robb didn’t dwell on that. The game was better than nothing, worse than something, but it  _ was  _ fun _.  _

It was sort of like a game of chess, the two of them, except Robb was nearly certain he would win. Though, he knew at any moment she could pull out something he hadn’t expected and take total control again. So, maybe he wasn’t that certain. It was exciting, though, playing back and forth with one another. 

“Would you like to hear what I’ve heard or no?” she asked, tilting her head  _ just so _ in a way that left her long hair spiraling over her shoulder and revealing her delicate neck. 

He’d really met his match with her. 

“Always,” he replied. 

She looked near rolling her eyes, but her smile widened instead. “Your little sister,” she began. 

He tilted his head in question. 

“Oh, off it, darling. You know who I’m talking about. I never call Sansa your little sister.” 

“What do you call Sansa, then?” he asked, just to tease, just because he liked the way she got when she was slightly aggravated with him. 

Her lips twitched to playful. “My roommate, my best friend,  _ Sansa _ usually. In my head, the hottest Stark.” 

“Ouch,” he said with a fake wince. “Point taken.”

“Your  _ little sister _ ,” she began again with a shake of her head, now leaning her body up against the counter. Robb wanted to trap her in and lay a line of kisses to her neck, still delightfully open and on display, but he held the beer bottle in his hands tighter instead, “just told her boyfriend we’re insufferable. She said if it gets any worse she’ll kill us or shove us in a closet, either or to get it all to end.” 

“Why is our potential murder by the hands of Arya, someone I truly believe  _ could  _ take us out without anyone knowing, exciting to you?” he asked. 

She shook her head, and Robb was saddened to see that opening of neck disappear behind hair, though her hair  _ did  _ look something glorious framing her face like that. Margaery Tyrell was too beautiful for her own good, and certainly too beautiful for Robb’s sanity. 

“It’s the  _ game _ of it I find exciting,” she said. “Who do you think we can get to crack first? Arya already can’t stand our flirting, but to be quite frank most of every one of our friends can’t.”

“What’s your definition of crack? Hopefully not murder us in our sleep?”

She shook her head no. “Beg for it to end?”

“They already do that on the regular,” Robb answered, following it with a drink of his beer. He was going to need it with the way it felt this conversation was going. 

“How about not them, then,” Margaery said, and it wasn’t that Margaery seemed to be a particularly  _ dangerous  _ individual (well, in any regard besides for his heart perhaps), but she looked something close to unhinged in that moment. Like a cat crawling toward its prey, already knowing it had no route of escape. “Us.” 

He raised a brow. “Us?” 

“We keep flirting, up the ante, first one of  _ us  _ to crack under the pressure of it all loses. We can make it worth a fancy dinner, bill on the loser and wine choice on the winner. Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” he repeated, slower but with the anticipation of this building, growing in his chest. He loved a good challenge, and there was no competitor quite like Margaery. Somehow both the storm and the rainbow afterward melded into one woman. “I hope you’re prepared to foot the bill, then.”

She pushed off the counter and brought her smooth, manicured hand to his cheek. She patted it twice. “Sure, darling. Whatever you say.” 

“Robb! Where’s my wine?” Sansa called from the other room. 

Margaery turned after giving him another wink, her eyes dipping to his lips for  _ just  _ a second, before exiting back into the living room. “Sorry, he was… distracted.” 

“Do  _ not _ tell us how,” Arya complained from the floor near the coffee table. Gendry sat on the couch behind, his legs stretched out on either side of her. 

Robb went to hand the wine off to Sansa, who gave him a thankful smile and took a sip. She was in the loveseat with Theon, the two of them happily crushed into each other’s sides. His arm was up on the back of the seat, fingers playing casually with her hair as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. When he noticed Robb eye the action, his cheeks grew a little pink, but he didn’t stop. 

“I would never harm your young ears like that,” Margaery said. “Perhaps when you’re older.” 

“Be nice,” Sansa warned to Margaery, though she looked pleased by the whole thing. 

Robb made his way to the free spot on the couch and fell into it. As soon as he had settled in, Margaery was making herself comfortable on his lap. 

“Margaery, there’s a seat right next to him,” Jon said, voice monotonous. He was on the other side of the coffee table on the ground, Ygritte next to him.  _ She  _ seemed rather pleased by the whole thing, as if finding it all amusing. 

Margaery shrugged. “I’m fine right here.” 

She leaned back into him, her legs crossed and an arm around his neck, and he found it easy to wrap his arms around her waist to support her. This close, he could smell the wine from her lips and the expensive perfume on her neck. Her hair smelled like flowers but only lightly, delicately. 

“That’s not a problem, right?” she challenged, turning to give him a charged look. 

“Oh, not at all,” he replied. 

This was  _ not  _ going to be a problem, he knew it. 

* * *

It was  _ definitely  _ going to be a problem. He realized it later, though, when he was alone in his bed and no longer had the scent of her floating around like some sort of love potion.

Because the thing about their bet of sorts was that Robb  _ did  _ like to play the game with her it was just growing increasingly difficult. He had, essentially, been half in love with her since the moment she walked into their lives (in high heels and a suit jacket that did  _ lovely  _ things for her frame, he might add). 

She introduced herself with a smile and a handshake given with the perfect amount of pressure. Robb had known who she was for some time, mostly through stories from Sansa. They were coworkers, and they’d become fast friends essentially from the first time their cubicles were moved next to one another. 

They’d moved in together not long after, and they had been inseparable since. She entered into their lives as if she had always been there, entered into his  _ heart  _ like she had always been there. Which was annoying, frankly, because Robb was a romantic in the purest sense of the word. His love burned fast and fierce, and he often found himself consumed in it. 

_ Like a comet,  _ Sansa had once said in a drunken stupor. 

It wasn’t that Robb didn’t want love that lasted because he was pretty sure that was all he wanted. He envied what Sansa and Theon, Jon and Ygritte, hell apparently  _all_ his siblings had. It seemed like there were perfect couples all around him, and he had  _ wanted  _ that. The problem was no girls had ever stuck. 

Except Margaery had stuck. To the sides of his heart and head like molasses, really. Since that first time he had seen her he was pretty sure she was  _ it.  _ They just got lost in their games, and they were both living such complicated lives, and it never really came  _ up.  _

Whatever. Robb would get to it at some point. The thing was, this game was like playing with matches when they had already willingly coated themselves in gasoline for the better part of half a decade. He hoped they didn’t blow the whole thing up. He sort of hoped they did. 

* * *

The Greyjoy’s bar wasn’t all that clean or fancy, but it was cheap and they had their in, so most weekend nights when they needed somewhere to go it was where they found themselves. Robb liked it well enough, though he thought they could offer a bit more of a beer selection, but he never would tell Yara that (mostly because, like Arya, Robb had no doubt she could murder him with relative ease).

“Another?” Robb asked, dipping close enough to Margaery’s ear he was sure she could feel his breath, would feel the intimacy of it. He pulled back enough to see her face and the smirk she was sending him. 

She brought a finger up to his jaw, tapping it twice. “Yes, that would be lovely.” Her eyes dipped to his lips, as she often did to him because he was fairly sure she knew it made his blood run a little hotter. 

Honestly, the fact that the two of them  _ hadn’t  _ slept together already was sort of miraculous.

He stood back up to full height, eyeing the rest of the table to see if everyone else was good on drinks. Arya seemed like she might need a new one soon, but she was arguing with Meera about something  _ way  _ too intensely for him to ever think about jumping in on that. Whatever, she was an adult who could get her own damn drink. 

The bar wasn’t too busy tonight, and it only took a minute or so before Yara noticed him and came down. She leaned an elbow on the bartop and leveled him with an intense gaze. 

“Another beer?” 

He nodded. “And another of whatever Marg was drinking.” 

She raised a brow but didn’t comment on it, going to concoct whatever drink she’d most likely made especially for Margaery. Yara was sort of a sucker for Margaery’s strange requests, and Robb thought she, too, kinda liked the challenge. 

“Are you two finally…?” Yara asked after a beat, brow still raised. She was shaking the drink together in the mixer, showing off her full-sleeve tattoo all the while. “Because if not I am  _ more  _ than willing to attempt to take her off your hands.” 

“I thought you and that Dany chick were…” Robb squinted, trying to think of the right word. He ended up waving his hand lazily instead. “A thing.” 

“She’s so hot and cold,” Yara said with a shake of her head. Her lips curved slowly. “Mostly hot, though.” 

“Oh, you  _ love  _ it.” Robb laughed. “Stop pretending otherwise.” 

Yara hit her fist against the bar top. “You’re right. I love it.” She turned her gaze past him toward their table. “Don’t wait too much longer, Stark, you’ll get that prize stolen right from under your nose.” 

“Margaery can’t be stolen unless she wants to be.” Robb twisted against the bar, leaning his back as the two of them watched the group. Margaery was currently laughing at something Ygritte had just told her, and her head was thrown back leaving her neck long and appealing. She must have felt his eyes on her because she turned to meet his gaze, bit her bottom lip, and gave him a wink. 

“Maybe she’s just waiting for you to do it, then.” Yara nodded appreciatively. “Now pay me, rich man.” 

He laughed as he pulled out his wallet. “Hey, have you seen my sister and your brother?” 

“They disappeared like twenty minutes ago. I’m pretty sure they’re fucking somewhere in the back.” 

Robb’s face scrunched up. “Ew.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re all protective big brother.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m just pretty sure that it isn’t sanitary for them to be doing that back there.” 

She barked out a laugh, and Robb dropped the money before grabbing the drinks and leaving Yara to it. Margaery held out her arms and made grabbing motions with her hands as he approached, and he took a quick sip of her drink before handing it over. 

“It’s sweet,” he said, lips puckering. 

“Like me,” she said, “and I can’t  _ believe  _ you would take a sip without bothering to ask.” 

“I thought we were closer than that,  _ darling _ ,” he replied, using her favorite pet name. 

“Truly sickening,” Ygritte said, her heavy accent making it all the more comical. She didn’t look at all upset to watch it, though, more like she was enjoying her favorite program along with her drink. 

Robb scooted into the seat next to Margaery, though there wasn’t much room and he ended up encroaching into her space. She leaned into his side easily enough as he put an arm up against the back of the bench to compensate, and he liked the feel of her warmth beside him. He brought his hand to the back of her neck, squeezing lightly. 

“Where’s Jon?” Robb asked. “He said he was going to show up at some point.” 

Ygritte shrugged. “I’m not his keeper.” She took another drink. “If anyone would know where he is it should be you.” 

Robb was posed to say something else when he felt Margaery’s hand on his thigh. Ygritte must have noticed it, too, the table not covering the view with the way they were squeezed on the edge of the booth. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t seem distressed. Instead, she sipped from her straw with an amused expression. 

“Why, are you missing your husband tonight?” Margaery asked him seemingly determined to  _ also  _ not pay attention to her touch. Three people all strangely involved in this display of familiarity and not one of them acknowledging it. 

“Why, are you  _ jealous  _ Marg?” he asked with a tilt of his head. 

“There has to be a competition to be jealous,” she answered. “I know I’d win.” 

“I… am going to get another drink,” Ygritte said, leaving the two of them to their stare down. 

Not a second later, Theon and Sansa were coming back and taking Ygritte’s spot. Theon sat first, Sansa happily sitting on his lap. There was a sense of energy pulsing from them, barely containable in the way they were smiling at one another and then back toward them. 

“You will not believe what just happened,” Sansa said. 

“Oh, I don’t want to know about that,” Robb said, thinking back on Yara’s words with a wince. 

She seemed confused. “What?”

“Oh my god,” Margaery cut her off, lifting the hand from Robb’s thigh and grabbing onto Sansa’s hand. “You  _ didn’t. _ ”

“Margaery! You literally helped him pick it out from what I heard,” Sansa said with a laugh. 

“It still looks so good on your  _ hand,  _ and also, why did you propose in a  _ bar _ ?” Margaery was bringing Sansa’s hand closer to her face still, now going to the effort of pulling out her phone to flash a light.

“Propose?” he exclaimed, looking between the two of them and the ring he was only truly now noticing with the light reflecting back off the diamond. “Holy fuck. You’re  _ engaged. _ ”

Sansa turned around with a squeal to kiss Theon on the lips again. His arms seemed to tighten around her. The two of them looked beyond happy, sort of glowing with it. Robb couldn’t help the face-splitting smile he was wearing. 

“I’m the maid of honor, right?” Margaery asked as she looked between the two. “I’m not trying to steal your thunder, but I want it made abundantly clear I  _ need  _ my hands in this wedding.” 

“Who else would possibly be my maid of honor?” Sansa asked with a shake of her head. The arm around Theon’s neck pulled her closer to him, and then she was nuzzling her head into his neck, whispering things that they couldn’t hear. 

It made him more aware that Margaery was next to him, close to his side, but it wasn’t  _ that.  _ It wasn’t 100% real, no exceptions or disclaimers. He wanted real. He wanted to be in love and be loved. Gods, he  _ was  _ a romantic and it never faded from him. Now he just knew  _ who  _ he wanted, and he was too scared to properly get it, or too afraid of the reality of it maybe. 

Theon and Sansa broke apart from their intimate moment, smiling like goons all the while, and Theon met Robb’s gaze. “You’re my best man, yeah?” 

“Who else would you have made it? Jon  _ Snow _ ?” Robb joked. He held out a hand, and Theon took it, and the two of them shook. If his sister wasn’t currently sitting on his lap, Robb would have given him a proper hug. “Of course I’ll do it. I  _ need  _ my hands in this wedding.” 

Margaery nudged him in the side, rolling her eyes, but she was too giddy about the whole thing to be properly offended. 

“So, will it be Theon Stark or will Sansa be keeping her last name?” Robb asked. 

“Hey, she could be Sansa Greyjoy,” Theon exclaimed at the same time Sansa said, “Keeping it probably.”

The two looked at one another, Theon’s face properly offended, and she laughed. She grabbed his cheeks and kissed over his features, telling him she loved him all the while. He pushed her away jokingly, not really offended but playing it up all the same. 

“Oh my fucking gods,” Margaery said. 

“Yeah,” Robb agreed.

“And we thought we were sort of bad.” 

“I know.” 

“Let’s go take a shot.” 

“Yep.” 

Margaery grabbed his hand to lead him, and he didn’t stop her. 

* * *

In the following few weeks the antics only grew. Robb wasn’t sure if they were destined to grow whatever had happened, or if in reality the knowledge of a wedding on the horizon somehow heightened all the energy of their game of sorts, but either way it grew more intense than he had been originally expecting.

Which was his fault, probably. He really should have known.

(He didn’t remind himself that he  _ had  _ known and had purposefully avoided it. What was the point.) 

The current list of Moments (intentional capital m because Robb knew they were not organic, but instead manufactured) included: 

Margaery crawling on the bar for the express purpose of sitting behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and resting her head on top of his. Bran had stayed long enough to watch her hoist herself up onto a chair and  _ then  _ the bar before rolling away silently. 

A Tyrell family dinner that, frankly, Robb hadn’t been invited to, but Olenna loved him with a feverishness that sometimes sort of  _ scared  _ Robb so it wasn’t much of a problem. At one point, while Margaery was talking about a possible raise at work, he had fingered at the edge of her skirt under the dinner table just enough to give her a start and stumble slightly over her words.

She retaliated not even a few days later at his own family dinner by rubbing her feet up and down his leg at all the worst moments. He was impressed with her knack at making something he would normally enjoy sort of hellish by simply circumstance of time. An evil mastermind, really. 

It went on and on, and this was growing into something Robb could not begin to manage. He didn’t know why he ever thought he  _ could  _ manage something with Margaery Tyrell involved because he had never been able to before. She was wild and free and in control of everything she decided to set her hands on. It was unbelievably attractive to him, and every time she bested him he felt a fire to be better, but he also knew he fell a little more in love with her at the same time. 

On the outside it may have looked like an even match, but on the inside it had never been a competition to begin with. She had his heart, and he knew it. 

* * *

When the wedding planning began to come more in earnest, the whole arrangement just seemed  _ funnier  _ somehow.

“I’m not sure why our opinions matter,” Robb said as they sat around a small circular table that was neither big enough for all four of them  _ or  _ the cakes they would be tasting soon. 

Margaery shot him with a glare, her nose crinkling. “Don’t speak for me. My opinion in this matter as a person with impeccable taste matters.” 

“Not your wedding,” he replied with a roguish grin, dipping a bit closer as to rest an elbow on the table and his chin on his fist. The table shook a little, on top of being small apparently also being less than sturdy. “I promise at ours you can have final say on all culinary decisions.” 

She rolled her eyes. “So not true. You’re a diva, Robb Stark.” 

“It’s true,” Sansa piped up. Her and Theon sat across from them, mostly watching the banter with a look of amusement as they held hands and waited for the cake samples. When Robb gave her a look she shrugged. “I honestly think you’ve planned your wedding  _ just  _ as much as I have.” 

“Are you two engaged or something?” Theon asked. “Since when the hell are you out here talking about your own wedding. You two are fucking zero to one hundred. Not even dating yet but you’re planning your color scheme.” 

Sansa bent toward him and clapped Theon’s knee. “We spent nearly half a decade staring at each other longingly across every room. Let them be weird a little longer.” 

He whispered something Robb couldn’t make out, then, and she laughed lightly before whispering something back. The two of them began discussing something else, and Robb turned to Margaery who was already looking at him. Her eyes looked curious, and for a moment her lips were twisted in a smile that wasn’t coated in anything. It felt genuine and real, almost soft (which wasn’t a word he often associated with her).

“What?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “They’re really happy, aren’t they? They’re really in love?” 

He smiled back at her and raised his hand to push a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. His hand rested there, and his thumb rubbed slightly back and forth over her cheek for a beat longer than maybe he should have rightfully let it since it had absolutely nothing to do with a game and everything to do with his heart. 

Robb knew Margaery could tear his heart out and destroy it in every way of the word, but he sort of thought maybe he would let her just so he could feel what it would be like to have her touch it once. 

“Robb Stark,” she said, shaking her head as she took his hand into her own soft palms. She trailed over the lines of his palm briefly before dipping closer and kissing in the center. When she looked up, she almost looked sad for a second, but it was replaced with something else even more difficult to name. “You are too good, do you know that?” 

“I didn’t know someone could be too good.” He wondered where the thought came from, and why she was still holding his hand so delicately. “And if they could, I don’t think I would be.” 

She hmed but didn’t say anything else, and there wasn’t time for him to continue the line of conversation before the woman who worked at the bakery was bringing out a tray of different cake slices. 

“These are our more basic sets and combos, but if you two are looking for something more adventurous I can tell you about what we can do? And bring some of those out?” 

It took Robb a second to realize she was looking at  _ them _ —him and Marg. She must have realized at the same time because she turned to him in amusement, barking out a short laugh and pulling her hand out of his to bring it up to her lips. 

“Sorry, we’re not the engaged couple. We’re not even together,” Margaery said with a pleasant tilt of her head. She nodded toward Theon and Sansa who seemed to be taking the little mix-up with hilarity. 

“Oh,” the woman said, looking between the two pairs. “ _ Oh.  _ Sorry, you two just looked so…” 

“We get it all the time,” Robb said as he threw an arm around Margaery’s shoulders. She reached up her hand and grabbed at the wrist hanging near her collarbone. “No worries.” 

The woman’s eyebrows crashed together, confusion laced within her features as she ran her eyes over the pair of them. Then she shook it off and began talking to Theon and Sansa about the cake options again. Robb tried to catch Margaery’s eye, but she was paying attention to the words with rapt attention. 

* * *

“How are you doing, sweetie?” Catelyn asked across the kitchen counter. She leaned on her elbows, setting the food she was working on to the side.

He was sitting on the stool, rotating himself from side to side, but now he stopped himself and looked at his mother instead. He’d been feeling sort of weird, and not to be a total mama’s boy (he was, honestly), but being near his mom always helped. He respected her advice, and even when she couldn’t give him something helpful she at least could make him a sandwich like no one else. 

“Well…” he trailed off, resting his chin on his hand. “I’ve gotten myself into quite the conundrum.” 

Her brows met in the middle. “Should I be preparing to get mad at you or extra supportive?” 

“I’m not sure yet.” 

“Best get on with it, then.” 

“Well, to be quite frank…” He paused, and his mother rolled her eyes and motioned for him to continue. “I think I’m terribly in love with Margaery Tyrell?” 

“Oh,” she released out a long breath before sighing, “I thought this was going to be  _ news.  _ Did you really not know?”

“Mom!” he exclaimed as he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. “This isn’t the support I was expecting.” 

She looked amused. “You’ve been in love with her since you met her. I had assumed you were aware, and to be honest, I’m fairly sure she loves you back. I’m not all that clear on the problem.” 

He stilled. “Do you really think she does?” he asked. 

Catelyn nodded. “I’m not saying I know all those girl’s motives, but I don’t think she’s intentionally cruel. To act the way she does with you and not actually be interested?  _ That  _ would be intentionally cruel.” 

“But I welcomed it,” he said. “I can’t be mad at her for any of this when I basically said  _ yes, flirt with me while I’m in love with you wouldn't it be a fun game. _ ”

Catelyn looked less than impressed. “I don’t understand dating these days. Your sister and the Greyjoy boy—”

“I think at some point you’re going to have to start calling him Theon.”

“Sorry,  _ Theon  _ were both convinced the other didn’t love them back for a, frankly, insufferable amount of time. And your sister Arya? What her and that Waters boy—”

“You know their names mom.  _ Gendry. _ ”

“What her and Gendry did I can’t even begin to understand. Not that Arya tells me anything, but the two of them… well, I guess it doesn’t matter. The point is dating was easier in my day.” 

“What are you talking about? Your were dating dad’s brother when you met him.” 

Catelyn shrugged. “But it wasn’t dramatic. I just upgraded.” 

“Oh… my gods. That's… oh my gods. I’m not touching that.” He huffed out a breath and shook his head. “What do we do if she  _ doesn’t  _ love me back?”

Catelyn pursed her lips as she thought for a second. “I don’t foresee it as a problem, but if it comes down to it we could murder her.” 

“Mom!” Robb exclaimed, feeling the shock turn to laughter. Right now, her wicked smile on her lips, Robb saw exactly where Arya had gotten that mischief from. “I think my heart will recover without murder as an aide.” 

She shrugged, and for a minute Robb wondered if she was actually joking, but then she laughed and he felt fairly confident Catelyn wouldn’t murder Margaery without at least checking first. 

“I’m protective, obviously. I don’t think anyone will ever be good enough for any of you kids.” She paused. “Except Shireen. She’s way too good for Rickon, we’ve got to do everything in our power to keep him from screwing that up.” 

Robb barked out a laugh, feeling lighter with the smile his mom was giving him in return. “I can do my best, but Rickon is…” 

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. As foolish as the rest of you when it comes to love. You get that from your father.” 

Robb shook his head. “Whatever you say.” 

She nodded. “Damn right. Now, what do you want on your sandwich.” 

Before she turned away she reached out and squeezed his hand, and he felt at least a  _ little  _ better. 

* * *

“Do we think the space will be big enough?” Margaery asked which Robb thought  _ had  _ to be a joke since they were standing in one of the largest ballrooms the city had to offer.

Robb made eye contact with Sansa to find her mouthing, “it’s not a joke” with a playful smile. She turned to Theon to loop her arm through his and walk the length of it. He made his way over to Margaery who had her head tilted all the way up as she scanned the ceilings. While she was distracted, he swept in and propped up her arm while grabbing onto her other hand. 

Before she knew what was happening, he was twirling her around the dance floor. She knew the steps perhaps better than he did, and she didn’t seem hindered by the surprise attack. Her posture was graceful and her steps more so. 

For a beat she tried to take over and lead, but he wouldn’t let her. He pulled her closer, moving his lips toward her ear. “I think the space would be big enough even if we rented elephants, darling.” 

He pulled back and their faces were only a breath apart as she eyed his lips, and he eyed hers, and they were still  _ dancing  _ as a charged energy took over. Before she could say anything in response, he had twisted her out and back into his arms to dip her. 

She giggled, breathless, as he held her there. “I have to say. That was impressive.” 

Robb didn’t know if they were flirting for the game or for themselves, and at what point it seemed they were barely trying to  _ win  _ anything anymore. There were moments it still seemed like that—making each other uncomfortable around their friends and family, upping the ante—but sometimes it felt like the flirting was just for them. Robb was worried perhaps he was reading into it, seeing what he wanted to see.

“Oh!” The two of them looked to see the space manager walk in, and Robb lifted Margaery back to a standing position. “That was lovely! You clearly don’t need to practice a wedding dance.” 

“Are you fucking…” Theon grumbled. 

Sansa hit Theon’s side. “Actually, we’re the couple getting married,” she said politely. 

“I can’t believe…” Theon kept grumbling, half his words lost. “...keeps happening…” 

“Good move,” Margaery said, tapping his cheek, “but you’ll have to do better than that, darling.” 

The game then, he reminded himself. It was the game. 

* * *

Margaery was on the other end of his couch in sweats and an old flannel she had stolen from him at some point, probably that night a few weeks back she’d gotten drunk and told Sansa she could have the apartment all to herself and planted herself in his bed instead.

He hadn’t wanted her to wake up, perhaps dizzy and confused, and be uncomfortable so he’d slept on the couch. When he woke up she was holding out coffee to him with the sweetest of smiles, and he had been positive he wanted to wake up to her for the rest of his life. 

In a  _ chill  _ way, though, honestly. Like a super chill, he could handle all his overwhelming romantic feelings for Margaery Tyrell, sort of way. 

The point was, she was sitting on the other end of the couch looking all sorts of perfection while being in literal sweats, and he was finding it hard to focus on planning anything. 

“A remote bachelorette party would be too much, right?” she asked. “Or would it be  _ just  _ enough.” 

“You don’t want to force anything on the bridesmaids they can’t afford,” he pointed out. “Sansa and Arya wouldn’t care, obviously, but Ygritte might. Or Jeyne.”

“Maybe we just go classic then,” she said, tapping her jaw before clicking away at her laptop. She adjusted her legs, and now they were intertwined with his. 

“What does classic imply exactly?” He looked back at his own screen. Seeing as Theon didn’t want to go to a strip club, the classic bachelor party was already off the table, though Robb would have avoided that anyways so maybe it had never been  _ on  _ the table. 

“Drinking fruity shit, lots of cheesy decor, penis straws…” Margaery trailed off, cringing. “I don’t want to throw your sister a cheap bachelorette party.” 

“Honestly? I think she’s going to love whatever you plan. She’s just ridiculously happy to be marrying Theon.”

Robb sighed, leaning further back into the side of the couch, which also happened to bring his legs more into her space. She had one leg pinned under his thigh, the other hanging over his other thigh. He wasn’t sure how it was that comfortable, but she didn’t seem bothered. She eyed him over her computer screen, a look of concern covering her features. She tugged at the big toe of his foot nearest her, and he humphed. 

“What’s got you all in a huff, darling?” she asked. 

“I don’t know. I just…”  _ want to crawl across this couch and kiss you, want to be planning our wedding, want to know I have you for the rest of my life.  _ “It’s strange, isn’t it? All of it?” 

She arched a brow. “I’m not sure what you mean by all of it.”

“I’m not sure I do, either.” He just knew he was feeling sort of sorry for himself, but he was somehow also insanely happy (perhaps the teensiest bit jealous) for Theon and Sansa. The fact that they’d found such pure love and knew how to hold onto it. He was all a bit too much in his feelings, honestly. 

Margaery watched him for a minute, him growing more self conscious every second, before setting her laptop down to the side and crawling over to him. She nestled into his side as best she could manage, getting her head onto his chest and her left leg over his waist. Naturally, he brought his arm to hold her close. 

“What’s this for?” he whispered. 

“I’m comforting you,” she said. “You’re getting emotional, and it’s cute. Let’s just… cuddle for a little bit. Maybe it’ll help.” 

“Sounds suspicious,” he replied. 

“What? I can’t cuddle you without it being part of some ploy or scheme?” 

He ran a hand over her hair, and she pushed her head into the touch. Then, because he could and she would let him, she played with her hair—twisting it between his fingers and scratching lightly at her scalp every once in a while. 

“You can. It’s just hard to know sometimes.” 

“What’s real and what isn’t?” she asked. 

He hummed, wondering how she nearly always managed to read his thoughts. “Yeah.” 

“It’s all real, Robb,” she whispered back, pushing into him further. He wished he knew how to hold that gem of a phrase, how to look at it and see the right light reflecting back at him instead of all the wrong facets. “Just tricky.” 

He didn’t know if she meant the game or them or something else he couldn’t think on. “You know what isn’t? Tricky?” he asked. 

“Surely not planning the bachelor and bachelorette parties because that's been stumping us for far too long.” 

“No, what we should order in for dinner.” 

Margaery laughed like the twinkling of bells and hopped up, practically straddling him as her hair curtained around them and she looked at him with a fond smile. “Excellent idea, but that is  _ also  _ not easy. Do you know how many directions we could go? Anything from Pizza to Dornish. I mean the options are  _ endless. _ ”

He wanted to kiss her. He almost always wanted to kiss her, but right now he wanted to kiss her so badly he thought he might just… do it. Her smiling face, barely wearing any make-up because they were lounging around (not that she ever needed it, really), looking down at him. They were so close to being real it hurt more somehow, the bet and the game shading everything. 

“I want pasta,” he said instead. 

“A man who knows what he wants…” She smiled then jokingly whistled, leaning back onto her heels and putting her hands over her heart. “What more could I ask for.” 

“What if what I want is like… murder? Marg, you need to up your standards.” 

She rolled her eyes as she got off of him, and he missed her weight. “You’re stupid.” 

“Thanks, now tell me what you want woman.” 

“Give me the takeout menu,  _ man. _ ” 

He went to the kitchen, fumbling around in his junk drawer until he pulled it out and handed it over to her. “Hey,” he said. She hummed as she looked over the options, not bother to meet his eyes. “What if I plan the bachelorette and  _ you  _ plan the bachelor party? Boom, easy peasy.” 

“One, I can’t believe you’ve said easy peasy. Two, it wouldn’t work. I’d be far too crazy for you.” 

“What does  _ that  _ mean?” 

“If I was planning a bachelor party for you gents it would be booze, strip joints, and debauchery all night long. You wouldn’t know how to handle it.” 

“Oh my– we are  _ sophisticated  _ gentleman.” Robb gasped, and she laughed at him. “We’ll probably do dinner and pub crawl or something.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Uninspired. Also, I want gnocchi.” 

“Rude, and sure.” 

She kissed his cheek before going back to the living room to fall in the couch, and he only took a  _ second  _ to regain himself before calling for take-out. 

* * *

They ended up going to an axe throwing bar, which truthfully seemed dangerous but ended up being a pretty good time. Theon was so busy getting excited about throwing axes he was barely drinking, which was probably better for him anyways, and even Jon was lightening up with a few drinks.

“Where are the girls tonight?” Jon asked. “I can’t imagine Sansa wanting to get too wild.” 

“Oh, they’ve already had a full day of it,” Robb replied. “Some sort of chocolate and wine tasting, fancy several course dinner, and now they’ve reprieved at the apartment before probably going out more.” 

“Is Marg sending you minute to minute updates, then?” Yara asked across the table from him. She sipped at her beer, an eyebrow raised. 

Theon came back to grab a drink of water, shaking out his limbs. “Guys, I really think I’m getting this.” 

Robb laughed as Yara went to clap his arm. “She doesn’t send me a minute to minute update,” he answered Yara. “Just… getting filled in a bit.” 

Theon looked between them all. “Are we talking about Margaery and Robb? Throughout the process of planning this whole wedding people have thought they’re the couple about to get married more than Sansa and I. Ugh, Sansa. I miss my wife, where are they?” 

Yara pointed her beer bottle at him. “You two aren’t married yet.” 

“But  _ almost. _ ” He sighed. “The best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“I am sitting right here,” Robb said. “Without me, you would have never  _ met  _ Sansa.” 

“I feel like we’re getting off topic,” Jon pointed out. 

“This is  _ my  _ bachelor party, how is talking about me and my too-good-for-me wife off topic?” 

“When we  _ were  _ talking about Robb and his too-good-for-him wife.” Yara shot him a satisfied smile.

Robb shrugged. “What’s there to say? I’m in love with her.” 

Jon’s eyebrows pushed together. “That’s… definitely a thing to say.”

“Can’t wait for the wedding,” Theon added, toasting up his water before taking a gulp. “It’s going to be prettier than ours most likely, you two princesses.” 

“You tell her that yet?” Yara asked. 

Robb narrowed his eyes. “What do you think?” 

Yara shook her head. “Hopeless.” 

“Coming from the woman who’s in an undefined hot and cold relationship.” 

“I’m getting there,” Yara replied. Her smile turned predatory. “Bet I can tell Dany before you can tell Margaery.” 

“I’m not gonna take that bet. I’m pretty sure you’d just call her right now.” 

“Remember when we were talking about Sansa?” Theon sighed. “Those were the days.” 

“I mean…” Jon trailed off, looking around them all, “we could just keep drinking? With the way you lot are right now, it seems the safest.” 

Robb agreed, so he picked up his drink and toasted it with his friends. 

* * *

The rehearsal dinner started out innocent and easy enough. They were all seated around a long table, coupled off besides for some of the odds and ends of family. (Robb wasn’t sure he had ever fully processed the fact that he was the only one of his siblings properly single, and how little sense that seemed to make).

As maid of honor and best man him and Margaery were sat beside one another which he was thankful for because it at least made  _ something  _ about this dinner interesting. 

“Do you think… Oh, there he goes,” Robb said, faking a smile as his Uncle Edmure stood up to make a speech. 

“Oh goodness,” she whispered underneath her breath, her pretty smile in place as she grabbed at her champagne glass. Her hair was pulled off her neck tonight, and it gave him the most enticing view of her profile. “He does love to talk, doesn’t he?” 

“Unfortunately.” He turned to look at Sansa and Theon who looked frustrated and amused respectively. 

“How lovely,” Sansa interjected before Edmure was even done with what he was saying. “Thank you for your kind words. I believe dessert will be served at any moment, though, so it would be best to sit down.” 

Robb didn’t know if his sister was actually psychic or just had enough power to will things into existence because the dessert came out a second later. Uncle Edmure awkwardly sat himself back down, and the roar of conversation grew again. 

“I planned that,” Margaery said before taking a victorious sip of her champagne. 

“You planned Uncle Ed making a dull speech? That's not something to plan, it happens at every Tully family holiday.” Robb eyed her as she shook her head. 

“I told the wait staff beforehand if  _ he  _ starts talking to bring out the desserts. I do love giving Sansa a moment to tell off men who think they have the upper hand.” 

Robb laughed in near disbelief. “You really are something, aren’t you?” he asked. 

She shrugged. “I like to think so.” Margaery set her champagne glass down carefully before shifting her body toward his. “You, on the other hand…” 

“Me?” 

Her hand came up to his chin, holding it between her thumb and forefinger as she smiled at him. Then her hand smoothed out over his cheek, holding it there, and Robb nearly pushed into the touch. There was something about her that was intoxicating, and he nearly forgot where they were. 

“Oh dear just  _ kiss  _ him if you’re going to tease him that much,” Olenna said from Margaery’s other side. 

Whatever Margaery had been going to say to him washed away, and then she looked at him contemplatively. For a second, it almost looked as if she  _ was  _ going to move forward and kiss him. Her face was close, almost inching closer, and he could do it—let her kiss him, feel her lips, get a taste of what actually breaking that barrier would be like. 

“Don’t,” he whispered. Her hands dropped instantly as if she’d been burned. “You win.” 

He couldn’t have her if she wasn’t real. He wanted her too much in every sense of the word, in every way. He had for a long time, and he had thought maybe it could shift naturally. Or he thought he could push it away until the feeling subsided. But he knew then that he only wanted what all his siblings had, and he couldn’t taste her lips and give it up. It would be too painful.  

“I wasn’t…” she trailed off, her brows crashing together. “Oh.” 

Something flashed across her features he couldn’t understand, but she was smiling again as if the whole thing was a big joke within seconds. It was to her, probably, simply some bet that she could move on from. She flirted with him because it was fun, and how could he be mad at her for that? He had been doing the same thing, had welcomed it, but he didn’t want the artificial anymore. 

He had never really wanted it, but he’d let his desire for anything at all outweigh his sensibilities. 

“Time for your speech,” Theon cut the moment off, practically leaning into Robb’s lap to look at Margaery. “You said you wanted to give one tonight?” 

Margaery nodded, but it was slow and Robb felt like maybe she was trying to get back on stable footing, too. She pushed her hair back, she grabbed her champagne glass, and when she gave him one last look Robb wanted to hold onto it. He wanted the moment to stretch out in front of them because he thought maybe there was no going back from the interaction they’d just shared. It felt like things were going to be different now, and maybe it would be better for him.  Finally, he’d move on. 

He didn’t want to move on... he just wanted  _ her,  _ but you didn’t always get what you want. 

She looked away and clicked her knife against her glass, and the moment was gone, broken, and he just hoped they weren't too. 

* * *

“You aren’t freaking out or anything?” Robb asked as he stepped closer to Theon to adjust his bow tie. It was probably the third or fourth time he had done it today since it kept going wonky, but Robb thought Sansa would probably find it endearing.

Margaery, on the other hand, would never stop talking about it in the wedding photos for the rest of their lives. 

“Your sister is the literal woman of my dreams. What could I freak out about? I’m just excited.” He paused, fear creeping over his features. “Unless you’re saying that because you think she’s realized how much better she is than me and decided to go find someone worthy of her?” 

Robb laughed, but he felt bad because Theon still seemed worried. Robb reached out and clasped onto his upper arms, holding him in place as he bent down slightly to look him in the eye. “You’re worthy of her. Anyways, she’s absolutely mad about you.” 

“You sure?” 

Robb smiled, clapping Theon on the back. “We’re going to be brothers, now and for forever, and you’re going to marry the best thing to ever happen to you.” 

Theon smirked. “I thought you were offended that I said she was the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“I’ll allow it today,” Robb said. “It’s your wedding, after all.” 

“Okay,” Theon agreed with a nod, pushing his shoulders back and looking at himself in the mirror one last time. “Let’s do this.” 

Robb felt for his pocket and halted. “I have to go grab the rings real quick. They’re in my other jacket.” 

Theon narrowed his eyes. “If you forgot them…” 

“I didn’t! I swear. I put them there so I  _ wouldn’t  _ forget them. I’ll be back, okay? Take a drink of water so you’re hydrated.” 

Robb clapped his back, and as soon as the door was closed behind him he jogged down the hall. The quicker he had the rings back in his hands, the quicker Theon’s blood pressure would return to normal. His mood had been swinging wildly all day, understandably so, but Robb wanted to keep it as even as he could manage. 

“Shit,” he muttered. His jacket was in the bridal suite. The door was slightly ajar, though, and he took it as an invitation to creep in toward his coat. He thought there would be more noise with the girls drinking and laughing, but he only heard muted voices from the ensuite. 

“But what if—” 

“Darling,” Margaery said, and Robb paused. Her voice was like syrup. “He loves you. You love him. What more can there possibly be to worry about?” 

“What if I ruin it?” Sansa whispered back, as if she was afraid of saying it any louder. 

Robb’s heart broke for his sister who had dealt with her  _ own  _ broken heart—smashed and sliced and bruised—so many times before from lesser men. He wished he could have protected her from it, but he couldn’t stop the ones he loved from all the pain in the world though he wanted to. 

In some ways, the pain was what brought Theon and Sansa together. Robb thought that was sort of sad, too, but it was also like a flower growing out of burnt soil. There was so much more life to be had after pain if you were able to push through it. He was so proud of his best friend and his sister for being brave enough for it. 

“You won’t ruin it,” Margaery answered in a no-nonsense tone. “You know why? Because you’re my best friend, the best person I know. And you know what? You did what so many other people are too fucking afraid to do.” 

“What’s that?” 

“You  _ tried _ . You put all your cards out on the table, and he put out all of his, and it worked out. You told him you loved him, and since then the two of you have been honest about it all. You aren’t afraid of anything, and today isn’t the day to start.” 

Had  _ he  _ given up? Robb had thought he had done everything right, but in all honesty he had only ever let Margaery lead. It was an excuse, for him to pretend like he was doing the right thing when in reality he was afraid. He had known he was afraid, but he had always assumed alongside it that he would eventually do something about it. 

A bet wasn’t something. It was just another game. He was  _ tired  _ of games. If he wanted to be happy, maybe he needed to take the leap, too. He needed to be honest, damn the consequences. 

“I’ve always been afraid,” Sansa admitted. 

“Even better. You do the damn thing, anyways. You’re braver, still.” 

Brave. Robb could do that. 

* * *

The wedding went off without a hitch. Both Sansa and Theon cried over their vows (and maybe, if he was being honest with himself, Robb did a little too but he didn’t need to  _ talk  _ about it). Their kiss was sweet and loving, and when the two of them came running out at the reception hall Robb knew they were both going to be alright. More than that, they were going to be  _ happy. _

Wow, he really was getting sappy. Maybe too much alcohol. That or the fact that Margaery was traipsing around in her lilac bridesmaid dress looking sort of like a dream. Really could be either one. 

“Did you eat  _ anything _ ?” Robb asked as she fell back into her seat next to him. 

“I think I took a bite of Renly’s chicken when I stopped to talk to Loras. It was good,” Margaery said. She picked her hair up off her back to air out her neck and turned to look at him, giving a friendly smile. “I’ll be fine. I swear.” 

“It’s not even your wedding. How are you running around this much?” 

She huffed out a breath. “I want it all to be perfect, and I don’t want your  _ sister  _ to be forced to worry about anything.” 

“Look at her,” Robb said, nodding past her. Margaery turned and they watched Theon and Sansa, happily swaying on the dance floor together. Their foreheads rested against one another, and Robb thought they might actually be in a completely different world. “She’s perfect. The day is perfect.”

Margaery sighed. “You’re right.” 

“I usually am. Let’s hope she’s as devoted at our wedding. I don’t want you running around at that, too.” 

She whipped her head back around, raising a brow. “Robb…” 

Before she could continue the thought, he was holding out his hand and smiling. “Come on. Spare a dance?”    


“I don’t know, my dance card is pretty full.” The words rolled out of her, low and sweet. She offered him her hand, though, and let herself be pulled up. 

While most of the other girls had abandoned their heels long ago, Margaery was still wearing hers. Not that that surprised him in the least. When he pulled her to him, she was nearly the same height as him. It gave him a perfect view of her eyes. 

“I have to be honest with you about something,” Robb said. 

“Robb, if it’s—”

“I think you should let me, just this once,” he said. She bit her lip, unsure, before nodding. They kept swaying along to the music, and he could smell her light perfume. “I heard you talking to Sansa earlier before the ceremony. I came in to nick the rings from my coat, and I heard you talking about being brave enough to be honest and brave enough to fight the fear.” 

She nodded, eyes widening slightly, though she continued to stay silent. 

“I haven’t been honest,” he said. “I want to put all  _ my _ cards on the table, nothing held back, and let you make the decision yourself. Okay?” 

“Okay,” she whispered. 

“I stopped you kissing me last night, not because I didn’t want to, but because I want to more than anything, and I have since pretty much since the first time you walked into my life. I like you, the sort of way you don’t just move on from, and I want to try us legitimately or—”

Margaery loosened her hand from his grip, and for a second he was afraid she was about to pull back, but then it was on his cheek and she was dipping forward to kiss him. Her lips took his own, chaster than he would have expected from her, but after a second her tongue was dipping into his mouth and that was  _ much  _ more what he thought it would be like. 

Not that expectations mattered much since they were all being blown out of the water right about now. Margaery Tyrell was kissing  _ him _ , and though he had thought it was probably bound to happen at some point—drunk or on a dare, maybe—it was better than any of those because he loved her, and it seemed like she might love him back. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” he whispered when they pulled apart, faces still impossibly close. 

“Oh, are you  _ mad  _ I’ve kissed you?” she asked. “I can take it back.” 

His grip on her waist tightened. “You can’t take that back without breaking my heart.” 

“You’re such a  _ romantic, _ ” she teased, but the smile on her face was wide and happy. “I want to try us, too. I thought you might not want to kiss me because it wasn’t appealing to you, but—”

“Definitely not the reason,” he cut her off. 

Her smile spread into a smirk. “Well, that’s abundantly clear  _ now _ .” She laughed, the sound floating around them with the music. “We’re still going to make everyone around us uncomfortable, right? All our wicked flirting? I  _ do  _ so enjoy that.” 

“Whatever you want,  _ darling _ ,” he replied. He stopped their dancing entirely to place both of his hands on the side of her face, kissing her without reservations for who was watching or what was proper because he  _ wanted  _ to. He’d spent long enough wanting and not being able to. 

“Gross,” Arya said as her and Gendry joined the dance floor beside them. “So, are you  _ actually  _ dating now? You guys are so fucking confusing.” 

“Was this secretly your wedding?” Gendry asked. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“Hey, me and my  _ wife  _ can hear you,” Theon called from a few feet away. 

“It’s okay, honey,” Sansa said, pushing forward and planting a kiss at the corner of his lips, “let them be happy. I know I am.” 

“ _ Also  _ gross,” Arya said with a sigh, though she was smiling pretty wide. “Not as gross as the fact that Margaery has been touching your butt for the last minute, though.” 

“I’m gonna be honest, I barely noticed.” Robb laughed, and Margaery lifted her hand up to wrap her arms around his neck instead. 

“I’m not going to apologize.” She kissed him. 

“Good. Don’t.” He kissed her back. 

Robb wasn’t sure which one of them won the bet, but he wasn’t sure he cared all that much. He felt like he had won everything he ever wanted. 

( _ Later, Margaery would tell him “Robb, darling, sweetie, that's very sentimental and all, but  _ obviously  _ I won the bet, and I hope you don’t think simply because we’re dating that exempts you from the terms of our agreement. I like good wine, let’s not forget.”  _

_ He would grumble and roll his eyes, but he would happily accept. If losing a bet meant he won Margaery Tyrell, he’d lose a million times over.) _

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at: [anniebibananie](http://anniebibananie.tumblr.com/)


End file.
